The Ride of My Life - Interview with Bruce Jones
by Sarah Rigg31 Jan 2012
As Coronation Street’s loveable lout Les Battersby, actor Bruce Jones is no stranger to the highs and lows of life. But in a brand-new, bare-it-all book the Street star is the first to admit his personal life is a bigger soap opera than that of any fictional role he has played.
Bruce’s book ‘Les Battersby & Me’ reveals a roller-coaster ride through life that even the most imaginative scriptwriters would struggle to dream up. They include: The moment he stumbled upon one of the Yorkshire Ripper’s victims. Two years spent in hospital with a devastating illness aged 10. And most recently how he tried to end it all for him and his wife during a high-speed car crash.
Despite the high drama this laid-bare life story is not just a tale of woe; but an honest account of how Bruce has had to face his demons.
He also reveals his happy childhood growing up in Collyhurst, Manchester, his years working as a fire-fighter in the city, and the love of the family and friends who have brought him to the happier place he is today.
Here are some of the high and lows Bruce shared with Northern Life in his own words...
You may know me as Les Battersby – and I’m honoured to have been involved in the nation’s most best-loved TV show for so long. But this story isn’t about Les.
It’s about a man who has seen things no-one should ever see; a man who has struggled to understand himself and come to terms with why he does the things he does.
The highs in my life include my two sons, my two daughters, mum, my wife Sandra, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, the acting awards, films and TV series.
I was born Ian Roy Jones on 24th January 1953, but took my grandfather’s Scottish nickname Bruce when I joined the actors’ union, because there was an Ian Jones already registered.
Growing up in Collyhurst – classed as one of the hard areas of Manchester at the time - I came into the world in a two-bedroomed flat, the eldest of six children to mum, Irene, a steam presser, and dad John, a steel fixer.

My mum has probably been the greatest influence on my life. We lost her in 2010 and I’m still coming to terms with it, she did so much for me.
My early childhood years were happy. We may not have had much but that didn’t stop us enjoying ourselves. Me and Bryn, my first brother to be born, would get sweets from my dad every Thursday, his pay-day, and Friday night was fish and chips night. Dad would normally be home around five or six o’clock for his tea after going for a couple of pints at the local. Like father, like son in my case.
We were a typical, hard-working, poor Collyhurst family, of which there were thousands in the same boat.
Our house on Rochdale Road was full of shops. Bernard Manning was my grandmother’s grocer. Yes, the Bernard Manning. It was actually his father’s shop but Bernard worked in it before he became a professional entertainer.
Dad was doing quite well at work at the time and we had one of the few black and white televisions on our street.
I was an avid reader as a child. Other kids were into Dandy or Beano and maybe Roy of the Rovers but I would always prefer to read a book rather than a comic. I remember someone bought me Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift. I enjoyed it so much I read it over and over.
To outsiders, Collyhurst may have been rough, but to me it was always the place I lived – and this was a time when parents didn’t have to worry too much about where their kids were.
I love my sport and like every other boy wanted to play football for City or United. But aged ten I started getting severe pains in my legs, a hundred times worse than cramp, sometimes so bad I could hardly walk. The majority of the pain would come at night. Eventually it started to affect all of my body. Some nights I would scream the house down. I was diagnosed as suffering from rheumatic fever, caused by the cold and damp, and it was taking lives. The disease had no definite cure and I was sent to Booth Hall Hospital in Blackley where I lived and was schooled for two years.
Every visitor had to wear masks and gowns. No-one knew how the disease spread, I honestly thought I was going to die.
As some of the children on the ward gradually improved, seven of the nine of us there died. After my time in hospital I returned to school, but looking pale and different, I was badly bullied. Lunchtime or playtime I would be slapped, punched, kicked and spat on for ‘being ill’.
It was my granddad who taught me to fight back which I did. No-one picked on me again after that.
At 13 – and already expelled from one school for fighting – I ended up at Albert Memorial School where the head teacher told my parents that I was violent, would never change and that Borstal was my next resting place. Miss Brown was my English teacher. She told the head: ‘Give him to me for six weeks and I will give you a different boy back.’
I laughed and asked this broadly-built woman what she was going to do.
‘We’re doing Julius Caesar as the school play – and you are going to play him. You’re going to learn the script and I know you can do it.’
She taught me that if you portray Shakespeare you must do it in a certain way, that I must feel it, not just say the words. This wonderful woman was setting me on the path I wanted to be on. She put me through my exams and drama classes and it felt good.
I went from being a thug who had gone off the rails to working hard at drama, winning awards for my English compositions and it was all down to the belief that one teacher showed in me. She really was my guardian angel.
The most dramatic, disturbing and emotionally catastrophic event of my life took place on the morning of October 10th, 1977.
I was gardening with a friend Jimmy, who had found out that an allotment had come available next to Southern Cemetery in Manchester.
We spent a good deal of the summer getting the allotment ready for the next growing season. We had planted cabbages, sprouts, potatoes and carrots. When autumn set in we decided to put a base in for a shed. One morning I was pushing my wheelbarrow over an area of rubble when I saw what looked like a tailor’s dummy. But as I got closer the stench was awful and I soon realised that it was what remained of a woman.
Her name was Jean Jordan. Her body was described by the police and the media as the most grotesque find of any of the Ripper’s murders and I can still see it today.
I was married to a lady called Sue at this time, we had two boys, but the gruesome discovery put added pressure on an already strained relationship and my next marriage would be my last – to Sandra who I met in 1979.
By 1982 I had custody of my two boys and Sandra had two girls of the same ages. We all lived in Failsworth in the northern part of Greater Manchester. We managed to get all the four children into the same school and my life was starting to look good again. We married at Oldham Register Office in late July 1984.

I tried my hand at a number of jobs, postman, fireman, bus driver – but nothing stuck. Acting was never far away from my thoughts, but providing for my family had always been a priority. Somewhere along the way I told Sandra that I loved acting and that’s all I wanted to do. We sat for hours in a car park one night and she said: ‘If that’s what you want to do you should do it.’
I moved the family to a lovely village called Marple in Stockport and joined the local amateur dramatic company at The Carver Theatre.
I learned a lot about stage technique and timing. I had two great teachers who became very close friends – June and Tony Broughton. They’ve both appeared in Coronation Street in various roles over the years – and I enjoyed many stage roles under their direction.
I decided I needed an agent and make an appointment to see Patrick Nyland and his brother Tony, who have been my agents now for 22 years.
I did a TV commercial that turned out to be directed by Ken Loach and led to a role in his gritty movie Raining Stones. My role as Bob brought me a European Actor of the Year award and the film clinched a win at the Cannes Film Festival.
The film led to two TV series of Roughnecks, an episode of Heartbeat, the movie the Full Monty, Bob’s Weekend, Hillsborough and TwentyFourSeven. Basically I wasn’t out of work as an actor from starting out in 1993 until I finished in Coronation Street in 2007.
During 1995 and 96 I was hardly off the television which was great money-wise, but it was starting to take its toll on my home and family life.
I got this huge guilt feeling about not having been at home enough but I was working, doing what people today call ‘living the dream’.
Everything was coming together for me after years of grafting on boilers, fitting pipes, putting out fires and all the other jobs I did to keep money coming in. I was now doing what I had always wanted.
When you are being paid a lot of money, probably more than you deserve, you think about how much firemen, nurses and craftsmen are paid and you do feel guilty.
I’m still a working class kid at heart. I’ve never forgotten my roots and I never will. I still feel more comfortable talking with people from my own background. It’s also why I feel at home in a normal, working-man’s pub, where I can talk with real people.

Mine and Sandra’s rows got worse and I moved into a flat for 12 months until I landed the job of a lifetime in Coronation Street when we decided to get back together.
Through my agent Patrick I signed up for six months on Coronation Street as one of a new family ‘The Battersbys’ with my favourite actress of all time Vicky Entwistle and our screen daughters Jane Danson and Georgia Taylor.
We knew the kind of reaction we were going to get from the viewers. You can’t just bring a loud-mouthed, layabout and mildly lawless family into the street and expect everyone to accept it straight away – especially if we were offending some of the best-loved names in the Street.
We were hated. Our fan mail was hate mail!
I was abused in pubs by gangs of lads, screamed at in the streets, and the girls were getting shouted at in supermarkets and shops.
Some people can’t differentiate between the character you are playing and the fact you are an actor.
As a group off-screen, Vicky, Jane, Georgia and I all became very protective of each other. We didn’t just have a great on-screen presence; we were strong for each other off-screen too.
After many happy years on Coronation Street I was written out of the show in 2007 after I was supposed to have made racist rants and revealed future storylines to two undercover News of the World reporters. The full story of how I was stitched up by these two men is covered in step-by-step detail in my book. I guess unless it happens to you, it is hard to believe that set-ups like this really happen. I was suspended from Coronation Street for allegedly giving away storylines. Steve Frost suspended me while they ‘checked it out’. I told him that what he’d read in the newspapers was a load of bull, but deep down I knew he didn’t want me back. He said: ‘You’re not sacked, but I want you to leave.’
There was no chance of staying. I was out. I hope Les returns to the Street one day – and I hope it is me that plays him again.

I had been finding life increasingly tough being out of work. I was depressed and had been drinking heavily for a while. Depression and drinking is not a very healthy mix.
There were arguments at home, things would calm down for months then something would cause me to blow again. The arguments were my fault.
On Friday August 28th, 2009, Sandra picked me up from a pub where I had been drinking all afternoon. We were heading off for a weekend away in North Wales. I was being argumentative. I then grabbed the steering wheel causing Sandra to zigzag on the A55, while I was vowing to end it all for both of us.
Sandra has saved my life so many times over the years. I didn’t want to write about this in my book but I vowed not to miss anything out. Sandra took me to court over this incident and I thank her because she did it to help me. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I was ensconced in a rehabilitation centre before and after my sentence was passed on April 27th, 2010. I was sentenced to eight months imprisonment, suspended for 18. I was ordered to undertake 100 hours of community service, fined and disqualified from driving for 12 months.
Rehab was no holiday. This was a serious case of trying to straighten out my life so that nothing like the incident on the A55 ever happened again.
I’d admitted during the trial at Mold Crown court that I had an alcohol problem. The Daily Mirror paid for my stay, in return for a story from me about my drinking problem. There is absolutely no way I could have ever have afforded to go to rehab without the support of the newspaper as money was now very tight compared to the £120,000 a year I earned on Coronation Street.
During my time in rehab the biggest problems I had were depression, loneliness and the recurring fear of losing Sandra.
I knew that when I got out I would probably have to live on my own for a good long while and that kept bringing me down.
Losing my mum had also been a major body blow. All of a sudden, in the space of a few months, my mum had died and Sandra was no longer with me.
The group discussions in rehab made me think back over the years about how my drinking had caused pain and suffering to my wife and family. I was amazed that Sandra had stayed with me as long as she had over the years.
The people there were from all walks of life; social workers, teachers, white collar management, housewives, chefs and top businessmen. Hearing their life stories brought it home how easy it was for us all to lose our way.
Rehab worked for me because I was so far away from everybody, from my friends, relatives and the life I had been leading. It allowed me time to gather my thoughts, to get my head sorted; and to write my diary documenting all my frustrations and my emotions.
While Sandra and I might not be together at present we are still in contact nearly every day. She comes to see me and still cares for me even if she isn’t here with me day to day. Even after all that has happened between us, she is there and I am so grateful for her support.
In a way playing Les Battersby has been both a blessing and a curse. I will still always see it as more of a blessing; but it was not just the thing that built me up, it also saw me lose nearly everything and mess up big style. I say nearly because thanks to Sandra, my family and friends I’m getting things back on track. I’m back on stage – and screen – and have a film and children’s book coming up.
I’m nowhere near getting back on a proper even keel with my finances but I am working.
And I’m still doing the job I always wanted to do. So am I Les Battersby to you; or am I Bruce Jones?
I hope that you have seen the real me, with all my flaws and my dreams here.
Bruce's book 'Les Battersby & Me' is available from Great Northern books
www.gnbooks.co.uk rrp £16.99
Article from Northern Life issue 42 February/March 2012.
To order this issue go to the Northern Life online store.